Interim

Was there for Casey when her parents divorced. I let her scream at me and hurt my feelings because I knew it wasn’t about me. I knew she didn’t mean it. I stood by her.

 

Regan stared at the words. She had forgotten all about those five months in ninth grade. They were brutal. They revealed Casey’s deeply-rooted vulnerability—her fear of the future and doubt about lasting love. That was right around the time Ethan began pursuing her, this wounded girl searching for something—anything—to bring stability to her life.

 

Regan’s hand automatically moved to the right side of the page.

 

Didn’t prevent Ethan from dating my best friend.

 

She wished now she were typing the list because she would have cut and pasted that point at the top of the Things I Did Wrong column.

 

“I am a terrible friend, but not for reasons she thinks,” Regan said. “I should have protected her. That’s my job. I’ve always been the protector—the defender—and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

She fell silent.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that!” she cried, thinking of all the people who were most important to her.

 

She imagined gathering them in a tightly knitted circle—Casey, Jeremy, Mom and Dad, Caroline, maybe even Hannah—and zipping them up in warm coats she fashioned out of her loyalty and commitment to their emotional care. Emotional care coats, she thought, grinning, watching Caroline try to unzip hers because she thought she was old enough to take care of herself.

 

She shifted on her elbows, catching a glimpse of the gold, rhinestone-studded Zodiac pendant swaying and flickering below her chin: Libra—the scales. She studied the pendant—scales perfectly balanced—and wondered where possession and ferocity came into play. After all, those were much more the traits of her Leo sister. But she owned them as well—that dangerous possession of her friends she tried to pass off as loyalty; her roaring queen-of-the-jungle words and actions.

 

“I should have been a lion,” she said. “This is bullshit.”

 

But then she remembered a distinctive Libra trait she most certainly possessed—the ability to see all sides. Her problem was that, until now, she took it too far. She allowed a distorted perception of balance to take over her life, operating in a constant paradox: I can be in the popular crowd without being popular. I can date Brandon even though I’m not one hundred percent committed. I can empathize with outcasts though I can’t remember that pain. I can be something to everyone as long as I agree. She realized she’d agreed herself all the way into being . . . how did Hannah put it? A fake ass bitch. But she rediscovered her principles. She retaught herself how to balance the scales appropriately so that she would no longer cheat her character or moral convictions.

 

She dropped her pen on the paper, abandoning her lists. She acknowledged her mistakes, her weaknesses, but she was unwilling to accept Casey’s version of herself.

 

“I’m bitchy, yes,” she said. “Check. I have a loud mouth. Check. I can be demanding. Check. I can even be impulsive. Better triple check that. But I’m caring. Big fucking check. And I believe I’m fair.” She fingered her pendant. “Ten checks. And above all, I want what’s best for the important people in my life. Motherfucking check.”

 

Balanced scales. Roaring lioness. She’d embrace both, lick her wounds, and wait, crouched behind the tree, tail swaying to and fro. Maybe a bit predatory, but she reasoned it was predatory protection. She’d wait and watch for the right moment to pounce on Casey and pull her back from the edge. Embrace her. Keep her safe. Because that’s what best friends do. They love. And forgive. Fiercely.

 

***

 

Hannah froze, mouth open, sandwich positioned at her lips for annihilation. Her eyes bore into Regan’s.

 

“Well?” Regan asked.

 

Hannah lowered the sandwich slowly. “Well, what?”

 

“May I sit down?”

 

Hannah stole a glance at Jeremy. “Why do you wanna sit here?”

 

“You know why,” Regan replied patiently. “So, may I?”

 

Hannah smirked. “Well, now, I don’t know.”

 

Regan huffed and plopped her tray on the table.

 

“I think it’s totally unfair that you expect us to welcome you with open arms now that your douchebag friends have rejected you,” Hannah said. She bit a large chunk out of her sandwich.

 

Regan exhaled slowly. “I know you do. And I’d think the same way. Now I’m gonna sit down . . . if that’s okay.”

 

Hannah jerked her head. Regan took it as a half-hearted invitation. She sat down beside Jeremy and opened her water bottle.

 

“So what’d you do?” Hannah mumbled with her mouth full.

 

“I broke up with Brandon,” Regan replied.

 

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. I didn’t think you had it in you. Guess my little pep talk really did help.”

 

Jeremy was intrigued. What pep talk? He didn’t know the girls were friends.

 

Regan snorted. “Yep. All thanks to you, Hannah. Otherwise, I’d have never gotten the nerve to do it.”

 

“Ha ha,” Hannah replied. “But seriously. You really broke up with him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I realized he was a bad guy,” Regan said. She took a bite out of her own sandwich.

 

“It took you three years to figure that out?” Hannah asked, her words dripping with sarcasm.

 

“I’m a slow learner,” Regan explained.

 

“Evidently.”

 

Regan dropped her sandwich. “Look, are you gonna give me ’tude for the rest of the year if I sit here?”

 

“Don’t I have a right to?” Hannah asked.

 

“No, you don’t. Wanna know why? Because I apologized to you, and I meant it. And I’m making changes and trying to be better. Not for you. For me. But guess what? You benefit from them, too. So get over it, learn to forgive me, and move the fuck on.”

 

Jeremy crunched a carrot. He thought it wise to keep from interfering. Girl fights were . . . complicated. And completely outside the realm of his expertise.

 

“Move the fuck on?” Hannah asked, suppressing the grin.

 

“That’s what I said,” Regan shot back.

 

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